roused before morning by savage war-cries. No man ventured out of sight of
his home without entertaining the idea that he might never get back alive.
Hence, when the long-expected blow was really struck, and the town on the
German Flatts devastated, everybody was in an agony of fear. To make
matters worse, Sir William was at his home ill in bed, and there was some
trouble between him and the English commanders, which stood in the way of
troops being sent to our aid.

Those few days following the dreadful news of the attack above us seem
still like a nightmare. The settlers up the river began sending their
household goods down to Albany; women and children, too, passed us in
great parties, to take refuge in Fort Hunter or at Schenectady. The river
suddenly became covered with boats once more, but this time representing
the affrighted flight of whole communities instead of a peaceful commerce.

During this season of terror I was, as may be conceived, indeed unhappy. I
had no stomach even for play with the new addition to our household, yet
scarcely dared to show my nose outside the stockade. Mr. Stewart spent his
days abroad, either with Sir William, or up at Caughnawaga concerting
means of defence with our friends the Fondas. He did, however, find time
to cross the river and reassure my mother, who trembled with apprehension
for her great brood of young, but was brave as a lion for herself. Weeks
afterward, when I visited her once more, I saw baskets of lime in the
attic which this devoted woman had stored there, to throw with water on
the Indians when they came. This device she had learned from the family
traditions of her ancestors' doings, when the Spaniards were in Holland.

Gradually the alarm wore away. The French and Indians, after killing fifty
Palatines and taking thrice that number prisoners, turned tail and marched
back to the Lake again, with some of Honikol Herkimer's lead in their